


Grapevine

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Protective Batfamily (DCU), he just needs people like clark to set him straight sometimes, no beta we typo like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: "Hey, B. Not to freak you out or anything, but… um, I don’t know how not to freak anyone out by saying this, really—dude, he gavemethe phone, move it—sorry, that was Damian. Um, anyway, so Dick’s been shot. He’s in the hospital… in the ‘Haven. It’s…you should probably get here. Um…bye.”Or, the classic hurt/comfort dramatic hospital fic that everyone wants at some point or another.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Clark Kent
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622032
Comments: 37
Kudos: 935





	Grapevine

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own DC.
> 
> For the "Hospital" square on my Batman Bingo card.
> 
> one day I'll write a batman fic that isn't dick grayson centric, but i doubt it'll be anytime this year.

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

Bruce was becoming increasingly frustrated. “What do you mean, my name isn’t in his file?”

The receptionist eyed him stonily. “I mean, Mr Wayne, that Richard’s file doesn’t specify a father, and you are not any of his contacts. That also means that I can’t let you in to see him – family only. You’ll have to wait another few days.”

Bruce let out a measured breath through his mouth. “Alright, fine. Can you tell me who _is_ in there, so I can call them up and have them clear this up?”

The receptionist had been looking at him somewhat sympathetically at first, and then it’d changed to cool-headed frustration, but now it was bordering on pity. Bruce wanted to punch a wall. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Bruce?” a voice called from the hall to his left.

Bruce and the receptionist turned to see Clark standing there, dressed in his farm boy attire of jeans and a flannel. He smiled at the receptionist when he drew closer.

“Hey, Belinda,” he said. “Bruce is with me. Is that okay? I’ll remind Dick to update his file.”

Belinda was beaming at Clark. “Of course, Mr Kent.”

Bruce didn’t give her a chance to say anything to him. He strode down the hallway Clark had come through, shoving down the swirling of feelings like _confusion_ in his gut at the thought of Dick putting Clark on his emergency contact list and not Bruce.

“What happened?” he said, voice short.

Clark glanced at him. “Three bullets to the chest. A collapsed lung. He only woke up an hour ago, so try not to tire or stress him out. And don’t listen to any demands to leave – they lost him twice on the operating table. He needs to be kept under observation.”

Bruce grunted, swallowing down the pit in his stomach at Clark’s words. “What’re you doing here?” Because _Bruce_ wouldn’t’ve known about Dick being in the Rabe Memorial Hospital had it not been for Oracle and Tim.

He had probably lost a few years of his life listening to Tim’s voicemail. _“Hey, B. Not to freak you out or anything, but… um, I don’t know how_ not _to freak anyone out by saying this, really—dude, he gave_ me _the phone, move it—sorry, that was Damian. Um, anyway, so Dick’s been shot. He’s in the hospital… in the ‘Haven. It’s…you should probably get here. Um…bye.”_

And being halfway across the country, he’d gotten on a plane and flown back immediately.

“Dick put me as his emergency contact when he first joined the force,” Clark said. “He didn’t think you’d…” He trailed off, but Bruce could fill in the blank with a hundred possible answers.

It was no secret that he didn’t approve of Dick joining the BPD.

All his kids were loitering around in the white passageway when Bruce and Clark walked up. Damian sat in a chair, earphones in and his trademark scowl present and accounted for. Cass perched on the handle of his chair, swinging her legs and occasionally aiming a kick at Jason, who retaliated with glares that promised vengeance as soon as they were out of civilian eyesight. Tim was leaning against a wall, chewing on the string of his hoodie as he flicked aimlessly on his phone.

All four of them looked up when Bruce appeared.

“B,” Tim said, obviously surprised. “You’re here.”

“I got your voicemail,” Bruce said. What did Tim think, that he’d just stay for the last two days of the conference he’d been at, ignoring the fact that his eldest had been shot?

“They’re changing his bandages now, running a few tests,” Tim said with a jerk of his head towards the door. The blinds were drawn; Bruce would’ve liked to at least have that to check up on Dick.

He nodded. “What happened?”

Jason answered this time, face dark. “Got a call from the BPD saying he’d been shot on duty. His captain told me it’d been by fuckin’ ex-cops – the ones they’d just taken down.”

Bruce grunted, settling in the chair beside Damian’s, seething at the thought of Dick being a target twenty-four seven.

“I’m going to go grab coffee,” Clark said. “Anyone want? Not you, Tim.”

They lapsed back into silence until Dick’s door opened and a nurse walked out. Seeing them gathered there, she smiled. “You can visit him now,” she said. “But nothing strenuous, and he can have the bed tilted upright if he wants.”

Bruce smiled his thanks, striding into the room. This exact scenario was, quite frankly, his biggest worry when Dick had announced that he’d be joining the police force. The rest of them piled in, making the hollow room feel alive.

“Hey,” Dick said, voice hoarse. He was smiling tiredly, and Bruce didn’t know how to deal with this rush of overwhelming anger at the world.

He didn’t say anything, letting the kids and Clark fill in the space. Tim was rambling, like he tended to do when he was avoiding talking about something. Clark had at some point lifted his glasses and was scanning Dick’s body.

“Clark, c’mon,” Dick protested half-heartedly. “Warn me before you do that.”

“Just wanted to make sure they got everything,” Clark said, sliding his glasses on again.

Jason grabbed clipboard of notes when Bruce went to put it back. He let out a low whistle, eyes snapping to Dick. “You weren’t wearing your vest?”

“Too close range. It probably made things worse,” Dick told him.

There were parts to the story that Dick wasn’t disclosing, and Bruce had to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “I thought you said you were going to hand in your badge and gun,” he said. He didn’t think his voice was particularly aggressive or anything, but Dick tensed and the whole room went silent.

 _Great_.

“I—" Dick coughed a little. Cass handed him the cup of water and he took a sip. “Everything’s still really unstable. And understaffed.” He didn’t look at Bruce.

“You’ve taken down the corrupt officers. You’ve taken down the mayor. There’s no reason to stay anymore. I thought we agreed on that.” At Dick’s lack of response, he added, “I’ll take care of the resignation paperwork. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ll bring them in tomorrow for you sign—”

“I’m not resigning,” Dick interrupted, jaw clenched.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why not?” He probably should’ve seen this coming.

“I _like_ this job and I’m _good_ at it. It’s what we do, just the legal daytime version! I can make detective in a few years or so, I know it, and I'm much past the age where you can tell me what to do—”

Bruce, later, wouldn’t remember exactly what he said at that, but he could recall with vivid clarity the way Damian stood by the bed ramrod straight, face tense, how Tim watched with wide eyes, Cass breathing shallowly and gripping Dick’s wrist as Jason turned white hot eyes at him, a fist ready to go. Until Clark grabbed Bruce by the wrist and tugged him out of the room.

“Breathe,” he advised. His voice was even, but Bruce knew his friend well enough to see past the façade of calm. “Cool your temper so you can actually process what I’m about to say.”

Bruce breathed in, counting to ten, and then out for another ten. Clark peered into his eyes and sighed, breath minty.

“You need to go in there and tell him you’re sorry, that you aren’t going to disown him or cut him out because of his career choices, that you worry, and that you’re a paranoid bastard and you’re working on it because you know it isn’t healthy. And then you need to give him a hug.”

Bruce glowered at him. “What he’s doing isn’t healthy, either. He has _three holes_ in him. He was on a _respirator_. You said yourself they lost him on the table!”

“Well, you need to come to terms with it, because I don’t think he’s letting this one go. And he shouldn’t have to – he’s good at the work and he loves it. You know how Dick is; he likes helping people and feeling useful.” Clark let out a breath, releasing his grip on Bruce’s shoulders.

“He wanted to do stunt work as a kid,” Bruce said, slumping down on a chair. “And I dissuaded him from that, because I felt it was too dangerous, that it would give us away.” He huffed humourlessly. “Every time I get a call with a Bludhaven area code, I wonder if this time it’s the PD, telling me he was killed in action. Now I know, at least, that they don’t even have my number. _You’d_ be the one getting that call.”

“They have my number because you were too much of an idiot to tell Dick he could put you in as his father and he didn’t know how to ask,” Clark told him. He stood beside Bruce with his arms crossed, but it wouldn’t’ve mattered if he’d been seated opposite him; Bruce was gazing at his linked hands hanging between his knees.

Bruce stood up abruptly.

“Careful going in there,” Clark advised. “Jason’s got Damian ready to throw a syringe at you.”

Bruce huffed a breath. “You brought them here?” He knew Clark had been popping in and out of the Manor while Bruce and Alfred were away, dropping Jon off to keep Damian company.

Clark shook his head. “Jason’s listed as second emergency contact, apparently. They called him when they couldn’t reach me, he called Tim, and Cassandra was with Tim at the time. They were waiting here when Damian and I arrived.”

Bruce hadn’t known that Dick and Jason were that close, but there was turning out to be a lot of things he didn’t know about Dick. “Care to shield me with your invulnerable body?” he said, gesturing to the doorway.

Clark smiled, rapping on the door before opening it. Bruce heard him speaking, and then there was a line of his children walking out of the room.

Cass walked up to him. _Don’t yell_ , she signed. _Talk._ She walked off in the direction Tim and Jason had headed in before Bruce could reply.

Clark emerged, carrying Damian like he was a duffle bag with no handles. He jerked his head to the room, telling Bruce to go in. “We’ll be right here,” he said.

Bruce nodded, entering.

It was much quieter this time around. Dick, against the advice of both doctors and family members, had decided to sit up on the bed. He was fiddling with the band around his wrist when Bruce walked in.

Bruce sat down on the bed, needing to be on the same level as Dick. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have yelled. Or said some of the things I said.” When Dick didn’t say anything, he continued. “I’m not…alright with you wanting to continue as a police officer. I don’t think I’ll ever be. But I’m willing to try.”

Dick’s head popped up at that, eyes cautious.

Bruce briefly went back through the list Clark had given him, checking off the first couple. “I just…”

“You worry that I’ll get shot and killed,” Dick said bluntly. “B, that’s the same as—”

“No, no it’s _not_. It’s not the same, because there are people you can trust to watch your back at night and not—”

“No, it _is_ the same, because how many times have people we’ve trusted to watch our backs turned on us? We go out there all the _time_ with people we don’t one hundred percent trust. Hell, most of the time in Bludhaven, I’m working alone.”

Bruce clenched his jaw, and then relaxed it. “Add me to your emergency contacts,” he said. “I don’t want to hear what happens to you through the grapevine.”

Dick blinked. “Are—really?”

“Dick,” Bruce said slowly. “You never have to ask whether you can add me to your contact list as your father. I thought you knew that.”

“You weren’t really on board with this whole cop gig. I figured you’d prefer to be as little involved as possible.”

Bruce didn’t sigh, because this was probably his fault. “It doesn’t matter how not on board I am, with anything. I’d still like for them to contact me when something happens.”

Dick nodded. “I’ll update my file,” he said, small smile on his face.

Three things off the list, and Bruce felt three kilos lighter. Might as well keep going.

“Clark also wanted me to tell you that I’m a paranoid bastard but I’m working on it because it isn’t healthy,” he intoned, lips turning up at the astonished glee on Dick’s face at his words.

“I figured Clark had something to do with this whole talk,” Dick said.

“He…” Bruce stopped, glancing at the wall that separated the two of them and Clark.

Dick let out an actual laugh now. “You were about to say something nice about him, weren’t you? Hey, Uncle Clark, B was going to compliment your intervention skills.”

Bruce let out a grunt but didn’t respond. He knew the only reason Clark wasn’t coming into the room right now was because he, technically, hadn’t finished the list.

Dick had just placed the now empty cup on top of the nearest monitor when Bruce shifted closer and enveloped Dick into a hug. He felt Dick jump in surprise, letting out a hiss at the unprecedented movement, and he almost drew back, but Dick’s arms circled around to wrap tightly around Bruce.

“This on the list too?” Dick asked, voice muffled against Bruce’s shoulder.

“It shouldn’t’ve had to be,” Bruce confessed, moving back.

“Hey, since you’re in a good mood now, from all those hug endorphins you experience like once a blue moon, could you get me outta here? I want Alfred’s cooking.”

“No,” Bruce said, but relented at the look on Dick’s face. “But I’ll sneak in food for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> “I thought you said you were going to hand in your badge and gun” and "You’ve taken down the corrupt officers. You’ve taken down the mayor. There’s no reason to stay anymore. I thought we agreed on that" are taken from/inspired by Nightwing (1996) #81, where Dick is in the hospital after Actually being shot on duty (yes, I was living. I was so happy. The whole batfam came to see him and I died.) Dick's injuries are taken largely from Roy's in Outsiders (2003) Vol. 1 (but Roy got shot 5 times and I took it easy on Dick lol).
> 
> This is also written after I read up to Nightwing #96 (Devin Grayson's run) and I really need someone to give Dick a massive hug and this hug really isn't enough so expect either something fluffy like the Magic prompt or something absolutely ruining where I almost kill him and then bring him back from the edge for the next fic ^~^
> 
> Because Dick's taken from Nightwing (1996) and the rest of them are also in this, I feel like his characterisation is always going to feel off (for me, anyway) bc at this point he's like in his early 20s at most, whereas by the time Damian's at this stage, he would be much older and more mature/secure. There are definitely lines in this that I feel like once I read up to the more recent comics, I'll look back on and think are ooc, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I want both officer!Dick and batfam.
> 
> Hmu on [tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/) I'm always up for a chat =D


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